


Cupcake Rule

by padfoots_prose



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfoots_prose/pseuds/padfoots_prose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of AU from season 2, in which the words 'cupcake rule' and 'I love you' become somewhat interchangeable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupcake Rule

It all began at the end of a particularly wonderful Saturday.

Kurt and Blaine had spent the day together, picnicking on Blaine’s back lawn in the bright sunshine of spring. Blaine’s iPod had played retro music from startlingly modern-looking speakers, and they’d both been lying on a threadbare rug, taking turns to hold up a book between them. They’d withdrawn inside to watch a movie as it fell dark, snuggling up on the couch with organic popcorn and Blaine’s mother’s crazy healthy, no-sugar, no-fat, no-carbs, no-nothing fruit juice, which mostly tasted like water.

Then Kurt’s phone had buzzed – a warning from his dad – and he’d straightened up, laughing as Blaine made a half-hearted effort to pull him back against his chest.

“You can’t go yet,” Blaine had whined, eyes wide and beseeching.

“I have to go, otherwise my dad will kill me. And then I’ll never be able to see you again, you silly puppy.”

Blaine had pouted, exaggerating the puppy-dog eyes, if that was even possible. Kurt had groaned, almost giving in to his boyfriend’s warm arms, but when his phone buzzed insistently again, he'd forced himself to stand up, offering a hand to pull Blaine up too.

“Walk me to door?” Kurt had asked, and Blaine had nodded, not letting go of Kurt’s hand as he led the way.

They’d reached the door and stood there for a moment, in the awful second of wanting so badly not to leave, and having no words of comfort to fill the silence.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday for coffee,” Kurt had said.

Blaine had nodded, adding, “It’ll be then before we know it.”

They had both known he was lying, both known that the time between their dates seemed to stretch on impossibly longer whenever they were apart these days, as if they were becoming more inseparable as time went on.

“I’ll miss you,” Blaine had admitted.

“Me too,” Kurt had agreed.

Blaine had been looking into Kurt’s eyes, their hands still held by their sides. They had both been so reluctant to let go, so reluctant to let the day end, so ready to be free and be on holidays, able to spend every day together like this one, every day with the person they-

“Cupcake rule.”

Kurt had blushed the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Blaine had given him a politely quizzical look in reply.

“Never mind,” Kurt had muttered, and leant forward to peck Blaine on the cheek before letting himself out, grateful for the evening air that cooled his burning face.

 _Well_ , he’d thought, _that could’ve gone better_.

...

The thing was that, shocking as it may be, Kurt hadn’t meant to tell Blaine ‘Cupcake rule’ at all. What he’d meant to say was a not-at-all-similar, three-syllable phrase, starting with ‘I’ and ending with ‘you’ and with a word in the middle that sort of terrified Kurt, if he was being entirely honest. And so he’d ended up with ‘cupcake rule’, a quizzical boyfriend, and his own frustration stirring in his belly at not being to get those critically important words out.

...

It wasn’t long after that that Blaine had gotten the dreaded three words out of the way, and they’d come out of Kurt’s mouth as smoothly as he ever could have hoped, with no mention of cupcakes or any other baked goods. But ‘cupcake rule’ still rang abashedly in Kurt’s head when Blaine said, “I love you” – his voice so tender and honest every time – and Kurt always missed a beat before saying it back.

Eventually, the memory of it got too much to keep to himself.

“Blaine?”

“Hmm?”

They were lying on Blaine’s lawn again, under the shade of a tree that protected them from the worst of the burning summer sun.

“Remember when- that time we were at your door and we were saying goodbye and I said... that thing to you?”

Blaine raised his eyebrows, in a way that sarcastically suggested, ‘be _more_ vague, please’ and Kurt blushed and started again.

“Remember when I said ‘cupcake rule’ to you?”

“Oh, _that_.” He looked amused, but Kurt tried to ignore it. “Yes, I do remember that.”

“I’d meant to say ‘I love you’, but it came out all wrong. Sorry.”

“Are you apologising for saying ‘cupcake rule’ to me?”

Kurt shrugged.

“I thought it was sweet.”

“Sweet? Not psychotic?”

“Not psychotic,” Blaine confirmed, “Definitely sweet.”

He kissed Kurt on the nose, as if that settled it for good.

...

But at the end of the day, when Kurt’s phone had buzzed for the third time in as many minutes, and Kurt had peeled himself off Blaine’s body and Blaine’s bed, he’d turned back to blow a kiss to his boyfriend. And there Blaine had sat, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“Cupcake rule, Kurt.”

“I love you too, you idiot.”

...

Suddenly, it became a _thing_.

...

Mr Schue demanded another arbitrary competition in Glee club – tall people versus short people, people wearing red versus people wearing blue, fair-haired people versus dark-haired people, or something equally moronic – and as Blaine trailed out of the room behind Quinn and Mike he shot Kurt a grin, “Cupcake rule!” he called, and while everyone else looked perplexed, Kurt hid a smile.

...

Finn threw a controller at Blaine the moment he walked into the living room, “I need you,” he said, “Puck and Artie are decimating me”, and Blaine was already beside him on the floor, clicking through menus.

“So much for cupcake rule,” Kurt muttered from behind him, and Blaine turned around to shoot him a guilty look.

“Just one mission,” he promised, and Kurt huffed out a sigh.

...

“I know this is new,” Blaine murmured into the darkness of the loft, “Us being _us_ again. So if you’re not ready for anything, then-”

“Cupcake rule?” Kurt reminded him. “I’m done with not being ready.”

...

Rachel dragged Blaine up on stage at a karaoke bar in New York, and he rolled his eyes at Kurt. _I’m doing this for you_ , his gaze said, but he just whispered, “Cupcake rule” aloud.

...

Kurt walked home alone one night, his phone clutched in his hand and his heart hammering with how stupid this was – this was _his_ city, _his_ neighbourhood, why should he have to fear it? His phone buzzed in his hand with a text from Blaine that Kurt quickly clicked open. _Cupcake?_ it asked.

 _Cupcake_. Kurt texted back. _I’m fine_.

...

Blaine knocked on the door of the loft, rain-soaked and shivering, clutching two wilted roses – one red and one yellow – in his left hand and a cupcake in the right one.

“You have no idea how hard it is to find these after ten at night on a Sunday in winter,” he said.

Kurt pulled him inside and wrapped his half-frozen boyfriend up in his arms, “Let’s never fight again,” he breathed into Blaine’s neck.

...

Burt handed Kurt a postcard from London where Blaine was studying abroad: a photo of a narrow street, crowded with little terrace shop-fronts. A person-sized toy bear stood under a pink awning emblazoned with ‘The Hummingbird Bakery’, and Kurt could just imagine Blaine lining up behind children to give the bear a hug, before ducking inside for a coffee and cake.

Blaine signed off the postcard with _all my love_ and a wonkily sketched heart. The romantic in him was having far too much fun with this whole letter-writing business.

...

Blaine’s father was frowning as he helped Blaine’s mother back into her coat. He nodded gruffly at Kurt and Blaine before leaving, ducking out the door of the restaurant and disappearing into the crowds of Broadway on a Saturday night. Blaine looked at Kurt and Kurt looked back, both of them so tired, all of a sudden, as if the ten years they’d spent together had finally caught up.

“Does the cupcake rule apply to parents too?” Blaine asked

 Kurt held his hand on the table – his thumb skimming over the embossed gold ring on Blaine’s finger – and didn’t reply.

...

The reception hall was full of sounds of happiness and ease, Kurt practically bubbling over with his own joy, barely ever having let go of Blaine’s hand all night. The crowds around them parted and they had a moment to themselves, using it to just stare at each other in awe.

 _This is happening_ , Blaine’s gaze seemed to say.

 _This_ has _happened_ , Kurt tried to remind him, squeezing his hand.

They both grinned hopelessly – Kurt wondering idly if it was even possible to be too happy.

“Cupcake?” he suggested, and Blaine laughed ridiculously, letting himself be pulled over to the table on which their tiny wedding cakes sat on an ornate stand.

...

Lizzy’s cries echoed through the baby monitor and Blaine sat up first with an exhausted groan. Kurt felt him get out of bed – too tired to lift his own eyelids and watch – but he could hear when Blaine entered their daughter’s room.

“Lizzy,” Blaine cooed, and there was ruffle of sheets, “What’s wrong with you, cupcake? What’s woken you, love?”

...

The young man from Lizzy’s day care smiled too widely at Blaine, and he smiled easily back before catching Kurt watching. Kurt _knew_ that Blaine wouldn’t- that he wasn’t- that he’d never- but he held Lizzy’s sticky hand tight and marched over to his husband, grabbing his arm and pulling him close.

“Cupcake rule,” he said warningly, and Blaine never picked up Lizzy on a Wednesday again.

...

“Thirty years on, and you two are still sickening,” Santana said with a roll of her eyes, then, “Here’s to the ancient couple!” and she downed her champagne, followed by the rest of the guests.

Kurt and Blaine, at the head of their long dining room table, leaned in close to each other.

“ _I_ think we’re sweet,” Blaine whispered, his breath tickling Kurt’s cheek.

“Not psychotic?” Kurt asked.

“Not psychotic,” Blaine confirmed, “Definitely sweet.”

And he kissed Kurt on the nose.

“Cupcake rule,” he smiled.

Kurt laughed.

“I love you too, old man.


End file.
